Basking in the sun was something Raijen learned to appreciate more with each time underground. As the sun passed it is a crest, two soldiers come to escort him to the place where he could probably find his way even blinded.

“There are more people than usual.”

Looking around he could almost see the wooden rails strain under the pressure of bodies, the place was packed. Few regulars he learned to recognize as they attended most of his fights and were betting on him heavily. Sometimes he wondered what are the odds against him. They were in the first rows, the hardest to get to, usually requiring the men to be under the ground from the beginning of the fights.

It felt strange for Raijen when he first found himself giving them more of a show, but over the time he learned to enjoy it. There was something to be said for the benefit of the momentum, intimidating his opponents with his reputation and savagery gave him another edge he couldn’t deny nor explain.

The enjoyment he felt when the rush of blood hit, with the final blow splitting the skulls of the men made his heart beat faster. He was scared of it, of how it changed him, shaped him, took control of him, but like with any drugs he always came back for more.

But today something felt different, the air was staler, the stench of the unwashed bodies permeated the whole premise, tickling his nose. His eyes almost watered from it all and if he wasn’t so used to it, he would have started to shake.

Picking his spear and aspis Raijen was led to the biggest ring situated under the four cages, guarding the soul of the champion. The cages were decorated with skeletons inside of them in different stages of rotting, and with four distinct ways of decorations and clothing. Raijen wasn’t sure if they were representing the four world directions, paths of life or some gods looking over the arena.

Someone once told him a story about how the bodies never rot over their current stage and always remain the same. He couldn’t tell the difference, but some poor men changing the corpses, which they never lacked, every few months seemed more reasonable.

They were probably just skeletons of poor men dying in the rings, without ever making it above the ground. Which is, in a way, more of an accomplishment compared to the others.

The stories say that the arena above the pits is not for the pit fighters. They can’t thrive under the sunshine, it burns them to the bones, makes them whiter, more brittle to breaking.

The darkness of the underworld is where we fight, live and die.

Looking at the cage above him Raijen could see one of the bony legs sticking out, pointing to the black sand.

That isn’t me, I will see the arena.

Some things changed over time, he was allowed to use the spear for one. Entering the bigger rings meant more space, room for more sophisticated fights bringing the best from the slaves. Donning basic armor consisting of cauldron and shin guards allowed fewer injuries for the winner, which kept them alive and in the battle condition longer.

His spear hand had full hand armor, from the glow, bracer to the shoulder guard. They weren’t allowed to wear helmets as spectators wanted to see their heads. Raijen was guessing they just felt some kind of satisfaction from watching the despair and the pain on the faces of dying men.

The pleasures of the lower men are more powerful than those of the higher lords. Theirs get more savage, primal in nature as they don’t know any better.

Raijen hated the look in the eyes of the men he took the life from. Even if he knew they were better off dead, and he said it to himself over and over again. The sour taste in his mouth when he pulled the spear out of the bodies never disappeared even when masked by the metallic taste of the blood.

The current champion won his way up around two months ago and decided to stay in the pits.

Not moving to the arena was probably the smart decision for him. Here aren’t many who could challenge him, enjoying the basic pleasures of life and flesh.

Raijen remembered the stories from the guards. When people move into the arena they start pretty much from the bottom, the same as the first time in the underworld. Only the odds of survival are somehow worse, even if the masters try to make deals to keep their slaves alive. Since not everyone gets to have gladiators in the arena and the prestige connected with it. The established competitors in the above don’t care

But nobody stays champion for too long here, there are just too many slaves going around, and the body grows old fast here.

Using two short swords the champion was famed for his speed and agility. Cutting his opponent's hands and legs drawing the blood, draining the strength and blood from them until they could no longer move. He wasn’t that big, probably half a head shorter then Raijen. Lean muscle covered his body, protected by the full leather armor without sleeves. Sporting heavy boots with spiked shin guards.

He is probably a kicker as well.

“Today is a very special day ladies and gentlemen!”

Announcer stood in the middle of the ring addressing all of the people around, silencing them at the same time. After all of this time, Raijen felt at easy, standing, waiting for him to finish the same speech over and over again.

“The current champion finally found the challenger! And it is no one but the men who you all know as the men who are immovable, unpenetrable, like the wall itself! Man who refuses to kill in a fun way, yet still finds a way to make it entertaining! Raijen the Mountain!”

Raising his hand with the spear cheers erupted from all over the place on Raijens' side of the ring. The sound of his name made his legs tingling in anticipation.

“The current champion! The man who is the fastest we have ever seen, the man who makes it look so easy, as he slowly puls apart any opponents standing against him! Harridan the dark blood!”

The cheers and yells came from all over the underground compound. The men, women and even the children were cheering, shouting and betting. The place was full of tension, full of death. Clenched expectations and emotions waiting to be released in the wake of the battle.

Raijen was wearing the shoulder guards intentionally, so none of his tattoos were visible. But he could still see the mist leaking through the cracks of the armor, covering his forearms. Standing in the ring he put the shield up and leveled the spear over the rim. With his body getting bigger, he could use the aspis much better, faster and the whole style become more versatile.

Harridan held the swords loose along his body, standing still, staring Raijen down. As the bell rang he started to circle to the left side, Raijen stayed as always on his spot, just adjusting the angle of the shield and spear. Knowing that eventually, his opponent would get too close to avoid the fight.

Lifting both of the swords the champion knew there wasn’t space for fucking around advancing on Raijen or trying to intimidate him. Preparing the blades for a strike, Raijen lunged the spear forward with a half step. Diverging the head of the spear with both swords he stepped to the side. Raijen retracted the spear immediately, preparing for the next stab.

This continued for a few seconds, taking fast stabs with the spear, him blocking them and then Raijen stepping out of the reach, walking in a counter circle, while going for another stab. () become slowly frustrated, no matter what, he couldn’t get any closer, and if he managed to get close enough the only thing he could hit was the face of the shield.

Lowering his body the men rushed forward. Raijen retracted the spear all the way back so just the point of it was still laying on the rim of the aspis. Anticipation building, he finally got close enough to make a strike into the shield while at the same time going for the legs, but Raijen was already too far behind the shield. Diverting another sword strike to the side he took a fast, short stab with the spear on his torso.

Startled with the speed and not expecting the reach of the spear Raijen pierced a hole in his hip.

So the guy was correct. He never faced against the spear, or anything bigger than the two-handed middle sword.

No wonder really, spears aren’t that popular here and no one really uses them. And not having experience against it, there is no way he could effectively close the distance on me, if I don't let him.

Starting to methodically force the champion back to the edge of the ring, the injuries started to increase, his side was heavily bleeding. Slowing him down and making it easier for Raijen to take fast hits with the spear poking holes into the flesh.

When Raijen found himself too close to his opponent allowing him to hit the shield, he bashed his body or face with the shield. At some point, Raijen forgot if he was careful not to overextend or if he was intentionally prolonging the men's suffering for being stupid. But it didn’t matter, eventually, he was unable to hold his blades up. The spear stroke true into his torso, the second strike went under the neck, forcing him to leave this wretched place.

Raijens hands were burning, his lungs and chest were heavy and his legs stubbornly held him up. He let go of the weapons and screamed into the sky beyond the rotting roof, announcing himself to the world.

“I’m coming! And no one can stop me!“

The crowd went wild, breaking into shouts and mass of sounds indistinguishable from one another.

Turning to leave Raijen spotted the master clapping to him, looking in his eyes with a smile of promise. The promise of possibilities lying beyond his imagination. Today they both got what they wanted. Raijen had his pass from this hellish place and the master had a champion admitted to the ranks of gladiators. Wondering what his life would look like, one thing was clear.

It would be much better from now on, no matter what is out there in the sunny world.